The Third Shot
by lisehrin
Summary: Post Sidekick. Tequila is a drink, a song, a town... and in Lorelai Gilmore's case it's also a contributing factor in screwing up her life.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: The usual rants about the show and all the characters therein not being mine apply._

_A/N: Starts with "I Get A Sidekick Out of You" and continues from there. I tried to stop myself from continuing, honestly I did. Resistance, apparently, really is futile._

* * *

Cautiously she peered over the rim of the glass, confirming what she wished to deny.

It wasn't him.

She grabbed another glass from the tray and thought only for a second before handing it across the table.

Christopher-not-Luke. Somehow, over the course of the evening those words had blended and merged into one. She tipped back the glass, avoiding the look of concern etched across his features. A bubble of anger curdled in the pit of her stomach.

She stood up, wincing as the metal chair screeched across the concrete and wobbled slightly before lacing the back of her hand with salt. She stared at Christopher-not-Luke, downing her drink with one swallow. Though the lemon chaser was bitter and brought tears to her eyes, she refused to look away.

He tilted his head and pursed his lips, just sitting there, watching her. And it was driving her crazy. Her muscles tensed and then, just as she was ready to pounce, to make him do something, anything but just stare, he did the unthinkable: he laughed.

The laughter was oddly contagious. It started with a snort and evolved to a giggle because of the snort (which was oh so lady-like). From there it was a short progression to a full-fledged chortle.

She grabbed another tequila.

Christopher-not-Luke raised his eyebrow and then his glass, parroting her actions as he tipped it back and swallowed. The liquid swirled in the glass and was gone, leaving only a bead of moisture glistening on his lips.

She teetered unsteadily and took a step away. The steps that followed were made unthinkingly until she found herself up on stage gazing down at her friends and neighbors in all their wedding finery.

Normally she would've reveled in the spotlight but today it felt wrong. Today was Lane's day and Luke was gone and Christopher-not-Luke was still watching her. She shifted her view away from him, feeling repulsed by the part of her that wasn't completely repulsed.

And god, she wished that Luke-not-Christopher was the one seated at the shot glass drenched table because then she could finally tell him all the things that had been building, piling up inside her like the crest of a flood threatening a poorly built dam. "Swoosh!" she murmured, "There goes the Teton dam."

Damn. Yeah that was it. She was damned. Damned for her sins, for wanting too much, the flowers and the dress and the twinkle lights glowing on a wedding ring. She blinked as a stray cast of light caught the edge of Lane's diamond and glinted up at her.

It took a long time for her brain to catch up with the words spewing from her mouth and when it did she felt sick. She couldn't believe the level of pathetic the woman standing on the stage had reached. She was jealous… of Lane's happily ever after? And as she was dragged away in humiliation she wondered who the woman speaking had been. It sure as hell wasn't her.

As the music picked up, she swirled away from the pitying glances, feeling nauseous and hating herself. She needed to get away.

For two scant seconds, reason governed and she began to point her toes in the general direction of home, but Jose Cuervo had other plans. Jose-not-Lorelai, she giggled and then twirled towards the camera just as a pinch faced Rory and Sookie moved to grab her. In the full thrall of alcoholic stupor, she sashayed and formed a moue and declared the two coolest people in her life the most uncool super party people. And when he slipped behind her, she closed her eyes and rested against him.

For that fleeting moment she was convinced that it was Luke and that everything, the last few months, had only been a delusion. The moment passed and she pulled away, cringing. Christopher-not-Luke; again.

Though she knew it was wrong, she didn't resist as tucked her tight against his side and began to lead her away. It would be okay. Rory was there. Rory was leading them home.

All she wanted was a place to lean when she could no longer stand alone.

Alone sucked. Alone was what she was always going to be.

As they snaked past the table, she snagged the final glass and with a glance toward the diner whispered, "Cheers."

_...TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to my anonymous reviewer who pointed out that this was confusing - I've added a bit of a timeline. As for the part about my ill intentions toward you the reader, well... I'm just dealing with what we've been given to work with._

_

* * *

_

_Two-ish Weeks Later..._

Punch drunk. Or, what was it, the feeling boxers got when they went twenty rounds and kept going? She sank deeper into the couch squishing her eyes shut. Him. Again. What was she doing and how the hell had she ended up in this place, on this couch, with him, a bottle of tequila marking the line between them?

She glanced at the tumbler in her hand and began to lift it to her lips. An errant beam of light challenged her focus, stalling the ascent of her hand as she peered closer. The crystal glowed with rainbow hues and it reminded her of the gem gracing her finger; the one second from the left; the one with the vein that ran straight to her heart.

"Lore?"

She raised her eyes and stared at him. Christopher-not-Luke. And she grunted because even as she tried to avoid all memory of the other him in her life, she couldn't. She tilted her glass and let the slow burn distract her.

"Lore?" he asked again, but she wasn't sure of the question. With great concentration she attempted to ease the tumbler to the table, simultaneously reaching for the bottle.

The bottle tipped and began to fall but Christopher was able to catch it. He scooped it up and held it out of reach while her hand flailed uselessly in the air.

Enraged by the unexpected game of keep away, she lurched forward over the table. He laughed and insisted that she'd had enough, wondered if the only reason she came was to empty his liquor supply.

With a glare, she tried again. The alcohol had dulled her reactions, rewired her coordination. The floor gave out beneath her and she tumbled into him with the grace of a linebacker.

They dropped awkwardly to the couch and she lay for a moment with her eyes closed, trying torecover fromthe unexpected elbow to her gut. What was even more unexpected was the sensation of his lips touching hers. Her eyes flashed open and widened. This couldn't be happening. Not with him. Not now. Not ever.

The last thought she had before the bile rose in her gut was that he tasted like a lemon. And that she hated fruit.

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx

The late May sun appeared too early for her liking, as did Christopher's daughter. The childish tones pierced her consciousness, sending searing pain through her temples. She blinked with sandpaper eyes. Her throat was arid and her head heavy. She felt like she'd tangoed with a Mack truck and lost. No, a convoy of Mack trucks.

The room spun erratically around as the liquid in her stomach churned. She stared at the wall and tried to lie as still as possible. A cool breeze greeted the skin of her back. She shivered then tensed as the bed shifted and hot flesh met hers.

She willed herself limp as his arm snaked across her body and tried to focus on the wallpaper instead. The patterns seemed to move. She tried not to breathe or to think. Thinking was almost as bad as moving.

Thinking meant acknowledging reality. And the reality was that the man lying beside her in bed wasn't the one she wanted. And the one she wanted would never lie beside her again.

There were some truths she wasn't sure she could live with.

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx

She fiddled with the dial and the radio hissed and sputtered in response.

There wasn't anything good on.

Nothing, niente, nada. She frowned, considering the increasingly distinct possibility that blood would start pouring from her ears if she had to endure another 'hit' from the Top 40 station. Although if she had to choose it was preferable to bashing her head against the steering wheel, something she was seriously considering since learning that Smashing Pumpkins and Greenday were considered 'oldies'.

She sighed. The last and most desperate of choices available were Talk Radio, or country. And somehow she had a feeling that being reminded, repeatedly, of lost love, failure and the world going to hell in a hand basket wasn't the best thing for her at the moment. Especially since she wasn't sure why anyone would need a hand basket when hell could be found just by turning the radio dial.

She wrenched the knob to the left, letting it settle into the off position with a satisfying click.

Silence.

She focused on the road, on the car in front of her, on the rusty blue Chevy on her left with the creepy guy leering over at her; she sped up.

She swept her hand beneath her seat, hoping that Barry was still hiding in some forgotten crevice. Nope, no luck. She wondered if maybe Rory was a closet Manilow fan. She wondered if she turned off the highway and headed for New Haven, if the CD would be secreted away with the rest of Rory's music collection. She smiled giddily at the thought before remembering. Barry was hanging out in… his apartment.

She tapped the steering wheel, a sudden volley of la la la's bursting forth in her mind, her own personal Sam Phillips soundtrack. Sam Phillips… Her mind turned back to the previous evening and the woman singing on the corner as she walked away from…she could've sworn…nah. Couldn't be.

And the la la la's returned.

_...TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimer._

* * *

It was pure, unadulterated guilt that finally forced her from the Jeep and across to the house. The two hour drive had been mind-numbing, exhausting. Not thinking was exhausting. Her life was exhausting. But Paul Anka, poor Paul Anka was waiting for her. Waiting for her alone and abandoned in that lonely house and she felt like such a failure.

Everyone had been right. She shouldn't have gotten a dog. She was too selfish, too wrapped up in her own problems to consider a helpless animal. She'd just left him and hadn't given him a second thought and he was probably hungry and angry with her and she so did not want to know how he'd solved the whole bathroom situation. With that final thought and a shudder she looked up, and stopped short.

"L.Luke."

He raised his head slowly and met her gaze. For almost a minute neither of them spoke.

She recovered first, albeit poorly. "Paul Anka!"

Luke squinted and shook his head, speaking gruffly. "Taken care of."

She stopped in mid rush up the stairs. "Oh." And she paused there, not sure what to do or say or say and do. "I'll just. Oh. Um. You let him out? And fed him?"

"No, the dog got up, fixed himself a plate of scrambled eggs and then used the toilet. I came by, we grabbed a couple brewskis, sat and watched a game, smoked a cigar… I mean, come on, when the cat's away, the mice will… Where the hell were you?"

If it had been any other moment, any other question, she would have enjoyed it. Even still, a part way down deep was grinning at the picture he'd painted. "Luke." Her voice was calm and it infuriated him.

"Damn it Lorelai! What are you doing? I mean, I know things haven't been perfect. I know. But you just show up and want me to elope and you don't give me two seconds. And, and you've been avoiding me! I've been worried sick all week. But then you show up with your now or never and all those troubadours are driving me crazy and you tell me that we have to get married. And you don't let me. You don't even have the decency. And then poof! You're gone again?"

She turned to face him. He was standing at the foot of her porch in last night's flannel, chest heaving and hands balled at his sides. Her eyes strayed momentarily to the chuppah across the yard and then back to him. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly as everything she wanted to avoid threatened to spill out. "I can't. Luke. I'm, I'm… I can't do this now." She tried to ignore the anger and disbelief splayed across his features, but it was impossible. And so, in the end, all she could think to do was walk away.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Paul Anka rushed to meet her, all fur and paws in his excitement. She knelt down beside him and let her head rest on his shaggy shoulder. The tightness clamping across her temples began to dissipate ever so slightly.

Her peace was momentary, disturbed by the dull thud of angry footsteps crossing the porch. She flinched at the sound and then squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in Paul Anka's distinct doggy scent. She wrinkled her nose and braced for the onslaught.

The door, still partly ajar from her entrance was thrown it open with such force that it bounced against the wall and back again. "Like hell we can't do this!" he shouted, before focusing on her, taking in the sight of the woman and the dog. And in that moment he deflated. His voice softened. "Lorelai."

She shook her head again, backing away from him. "No Luke. I mean it. I can't do this. I…"

"Then let me talk," he interrupted. "You had your say. You, last night. It's my turn now. I," and he emphasized the last word, "You didn't give me a chance."

"Oh, I gave you a chance." She tossed back bitterly.

"When? When did you give me a chance? Last night when you just showed up after disappearing for a week and told me you wanted to elope? You know me! I can't be like that. I can't just react. I had to. I needed to process."

She turned away wearily. "Sometimes Luke, sometimes I think that it's not so much about needing time to think, but about buying time to delay taking action."

"Bull."

"Luke. I can't do this right now. Go home. Go to your home. Just go."

"I am home."

She turned to him. "You might have put up bookshelves here Luke, but you never moved in. I get it Luke. You don't have to. I get it. You think you love me. You wanted me for a long time. But… you got me and then you realized that you really didn't want me, want this." She waved vaguely around the room. "Just go Luke. And leave me where I'm supposed to be. Alone."

"Lorelai." He opened his mouth to say something more, but nothing came out.

She looked at him with grim victory. "Just go."

Luke stood frozen in place, watching her retreat up the stairs. He listened to her progressing down the hallway, through the door, to the bathroom, flinching as the door slammed shut. He turned away slowly, scanning the room around him.

They'd spent two weekends and 10 unbelievably frustrating visits to furniture stores before they'd finally agreed upon the couch. She'd agonized over the paint on the walls because she wanted it to be perfect for him, for them. She'd stolen a lamp from his apartment and placed it just to the left of the chair so he'd have something familiar to read by in the evenings. One bookshelf sat empty, still waiting for him to fill it.

He hadn't meant. He hadn't thought. He didn't mean.

His gaze swept across the mantle and over the pictures of friends and family. And although he considered each in turn, only one caught his eye. There, nestled in beside a cherubic four-year-old and two adamant 'friends' at a firelight festival, was a picture of his daughter.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The blinds were drawn, the form on the bed obscured in blankets. He sat down gingerly at the edge of the bed and released a sigh. "Maybe I wasn't all in. I thought I was, but maybe I wasn't."

The form shifted and rolled over to face him. "You weren't."

"I didn't know. I didn't see."

"I know."

"I'm such a jerk."

"I know that too."

He reached for her hand and squeezes it. "I want to fix this. I want this, you, here. It's not the same as it was before. With Nicole."

Her fingers lay limp in his hand and she didn't respond. "Lorelai? Please?" He leaned forward to look at her in the dim light. Her gaze was fixed upon the ceiling.

"Maybe I am Nicole. Maybe…" Her voice trailed off before returning with new vigor. "I'm not sure I can do this anymore."

He dropped her hand as if bitten. "What?"

"Last night? After I left you? Do you still want to know where I went?" Her voice was remote, strangely cold. "You'll love this. It's like the punch line of some bad joke. But here's the joke; it's no joke." She choked back a sob, a laugh; he wasn't sure what to call it.

"Lorelai," he whispered soothingly as he tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. "I don't care. It doesn't. You don't. I'm sorry."

"Just go Luke, I can't do this." She turned her back on him once again and burrowed her way beneath the comforters, blocking out the sound of his retreat.

_...TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimer._

* * *

She showed up at the diner five days and five bouquets of flowers later. The lights were dim and the sign flipped over, but she ignored it and let herself inside.

His glance was hopeful and his first instinct was to smile in relief at her presence. But the smile faded as he noticed the dark smudges under her eyes and the paleness of her skin. Immediately he knew that this is not going to a good thing.

"Hi." Her eyes danced across the room, avoiding meeting his stare.

He stilled his hand and managed to reply. She bounced a little on her toes, then making up her mind, moved closer.

"We need to talk." He nodded, but remained speechless. She took his hand and pulled, led him to a nearby table. The look in her eyes sent a chill through him, they were sorrowful… determined… dead.

"Lorelai?"

She released a breath. "You sent me flowers. Pink roses. Red roses. Lots of roses."

He fiddled with a stray napkin. "I couldn't think of anything. I had to do something." He shrugged, informing her, "They said that there was symbolism in the colors. Pink means friendship. Red means love."

"Luke. You didn't need to. I uh. You don't need to try to be that guy."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What guy?"

She smiled sadly at his confused response and continued. "Luke, I know you're not a flower type of guy. I don't expect you to be a flower guy. I get that about you and really I'm not that big of a flower girl."

At this Luke raised his eyebrow and she dismissed him. "I know. Stupid wording. I just meant that I get you're not big on romantic gestures."

When he tried to speak, she held up her hand. "Look. The thing is I don't doubt you love me. That we love each other. But things have gotten so complicated, so messed up. How did it happen? I'm not even sure there's a point we can stop and point at and tell each other this is it, this is where we screwed up."

"I should have let you in. With April…and everything."

Tears threatened her eyes and she struggled to maintain her composure. "Oh Luke. I shouldn't have let you keep me out. I should have let you know what was going on with me. Instead I let it build until, kaboom! - Little pieces of Lorelai scattered all over the street."

He shrugged. "So what do we do?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "I leave."

"What?" he began, but she cut him off.

"I need to go away for a while. I am going away actually. I, uh, I called up this guy, Mike Armstrong. Do you remember last year when he wanted to buy the inn?"

"You're not?"

"No. The inn is my baby, Sookie's and mine. I'm not giving it up. No. Mike, he suggested that I do some consulting for his company and left the offer open. I took him up on it yesterday."

Luke shook his head. "You can't run away."

Lorelai shrugged out of his grasp. "I'm not running. Well, not exactly. Look. This person I've been since… well for a long time. I don't know her. I don't know if I even like her."

"You've had a rough year. But you're you. You're Lorelai. That hasn't changed." His confidence amazed her.

"If you only knew the half of it… Look. You need time. You need time to get to know your daughter without having to think of me or anyone else. And I. I need to let you do that without feeling like you've forgotten about me. And the thing is, I can't. So I'm going to go away and figure out the new and improved Lorelai and you're going to figure out the new Luke. And then maybe…well I don't know."

"Lorelai you don't have to. We can make this work."

"I can't right now. I'm too messed up. I'm not good to you or anyone else. I just can't." She looked down and began to twist his ring off her finger.

"No. You. Keep it." He tried to push her away, but in the end she prevailed.

"Keep it safe. I'll come back for it. I promise. I just hope that when I do you'll want to give it back to me."

"I will," he insisted.

With sad eyes, she stood and walked to the door. "We'll see. Bye Luke. I'll call."

"Lorelai."

His only answer was a jingle and the click of the closing door.

_...TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

The messages would appear at random times. Sometimes they would be long and rambling. Sometimes her tone would be hurried, clipped. Days would pass; a week and then two would appear within the space of hours. 

Luke let his answering machine fill with her voice until it refused to take any more messages. Then he bought a new tape, and another, and another. He only listened to each one once, but he had this vague idea that getting rid of even one would disappear her from his life completely.

_-o-_

_"Hi Luke. I just called to let you know that, well, I'm here. In Canada. I've never been to Canada before. It's wet. I mean. Not all of Canada is wet. That would be like saying that all of the US is like California or something. Anyway, the place I am, Vancouver, is wet and strangely beautiful even with the wet and the clouds and the green and stuff. And that's all really. I just wanted to let you know. Where I am."_

_-o-_

_"Hey Luke! The sun's shining! Um. I, uh. I was wondering if maybe you could stop by the house once in a while. I know. But the thing is I don't want it to get lonely or look unlived in or. You don't have too. I asked Babette to keep an eye on it. Nevermind."_

_-o-_

_"Hi, it's me. I just wanted to say. I'm sorry."_

_-o-_

_"So, you probably don't remember or anything, but today's June 3. I almost didn't remember. Well, I remembered and then I forgot but then I remembered again. I just…"_

_-o-_

_"Me again. Stupid ferry, stupid cell. I have today off and I'm going to explore the Island. They say the Buchart Gardens are nice. Very gardeny. And I'm on a quest to see as many totem poles as possible. I've started sending pictures of them as postcards. They give Rory nightmares. They give my mother a migraine. I won't tell you what Sookie thinks of them! She's in the gutter right along with me though._

_Anyway, I looked at my ticket and I saw the date and then next thing I knew I was phoning you. We were supposed to get married today. I know the date was only set for like two weeks. But it was set and I was looking forward to it. I kept thinking 'That's the day when we start our middle.' Stupid I know. Doesn't matter now I guess. Today I'm on a boat on the ocean and you're… where are you Luke? Are you spending the day with April? I hope you are. I hope it's getting easier. I hope… You're a good dad Luke. She knows it."_

_-o-_

_"Apparently we're playing phone tag? I didn't expect to find a message from you today. I didn't think. You don't have to be sorry Luke. It's not your fault. You didn't even get to help pick the date. I didn't let you be a part of it. I guess we're alike that way. Anyway, I guess I didn't reach you. I just wanted to return you message and tell you… I love you too. Goodnight Luke. Sleep tight. I know you don't have bedbugs, but don't let them bite."_

_-o-_

_"Hi Luke, it's Lorelai._

_I guess you probably already figured that out._

_I hope you haven't forgotten my voice. Don't forget me, okay?"_

_-o-_

_"Rory told me she stopped by the diner today. She said that you looked sad. Don't be sad Luke. Please? We'll figure this out."_

_-o-_

_"Rory's here. She made me to call you. I don't know what to say. We went to Granville Island today. It made me miss Star's Hollow."_

_-o-_

_**"We are sorry the number you are calling has exceeded it's mailbox limit."**_

_-o-_

_"I miss you. I just wanted to let you know that."_

_-o-_

_"Luke? Are you there? It's me. I'm sorry I haven't called lately. I got your messages. I've just been. I've been busy, with work, and, uh, stuff. I'm trying not to call so much. I've been trying to be more independent now that Rory's gone to London. Did you know that? That Rory went to London? I wasn't sure you knew. Um. Paul Anka says hi. Bye."_

_-o-_

_"What was that? I got this weird garbled message from some guy – I think you – with the words April, camping, bikini, bear, and boys. Cryptic much? You're camping with April, is that it? And the bear was wearing a bikini in front of boys? She's 13 Luke. Don't worry so much. The fact that you were able to convince her to go camping at all says a lot. Hope you're having fun!"_

_-o-_

_"Hi. It's late and even with the time difference it's still late and now I'm wondering where you are at this time of night. Maybe you're still camping? I just. Luke, do you ever wonder what would have happened if you'd never found out about Nicole and the sockman? Would you have divorced her? Would you still have asked me to Liz's wedding? Would you have tried to make it work or would you have continued to make a halfhearted attempt at a marriage? I'm not trying to make you feel bad. It's just, it's 1 a.m. and I'm lying here listening to the rain and Paul Anka snoring and I'm thinking. Do you forgive her? Do you think it's possible to forgive a betrayal like that? Do you ever wonder about these things Luke? I do."_

_-o-_

_"I suppose it's fair for you to leave me a message with so many questions when I did the same to you. But you didn't answer any of mine! All you said was that Nicole wasn't me. You are the king of cryptic answers, you know that right? But I- Iam going tobe the grownup here and answer you. _

_I uh, I've never completely loved any of the guys I dated. Until I met you._

_I didn't marry Max because I didn't love him, no matter how hard I tried. Jason was basically afling. And he had that whole my parents hated him thing going. Alex, or fishing guy as you so delightfully called him, was a non-entity. Chris. Is a dead issue, I don't... I love you Luke. Just know that, kay? I, um, I gotta go. Talk to you soon, I hope."_

_-o-_

_"I just got off the phone with my parents and I'm craving your coffee. Lately I've been stopping at this place on the corner called Tim Horton's for this thing they call a double double. It's just not the same. Their Iced Cap's aren't bad though… Hey, if I sent you some money could you ship me some of your special brew? Yeah, didn't think so."_

_-o-_

_"Luke, you are a God! For the first time since I got here I feel like I'm home. And that's because of the sweet nectar currently brewing on my counter. I owe you big time!"_

_-o-_

_"Luke? I think we need to talk. Really talk. I have something I need to tell you and I can't speak to a machine any longer. I just. Call me? Anytime. Just… call me."_

_-o-_

_"You hung up. Oh God. You don't know how sorry…. It's not as bad as it seems. Please Luke, don't hate me forever. Please?"_

_-o-_

_"Luke…"_

_-o-_

_"I'm…"_

_-o-_

_"Sorry. Luke, please…"_

_-o-_

_"It was just a kiss…"_

_-o-_

_**"We are sorry the number you are calling has exceeded it's mailbox limit."**_

_-o-_

_"Hi Luke. Your machine wouldn't let me leave you a message. Again. You should get it fixed. At least I hope that's the problem. But now it seems to be working so I'll say what I have to say and then let you be. You said you didn't hate me. I wouldn't blame you. Did you mean it? But um. That wasn't what I was calling to tell you. August 24th. I'm coming home on the 24th and spending a couple of days with Rory before she goes back to school. I'll guess I'll see you then."_

_-o-_

_"Hey Luke? Tomorrow! I'm coming home tomorrow! I'll be looking for you at the airport. I know we still have stuff to talk about, but we'll figure it out._

_Just so you know - I love you too."_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This is it, the end... Thanks for the reviews. Thanks for reading. Just thanks._

_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1._

* * *

She is different now, four months post ultimatum.

These months have altered her irreparably. Although her smile is less guarded, her laugh more genuine, there is something older in her eyes.

The town of course, has noticed and commented at length. Kirk had, not so subtly, suggested a new wrinkle cream. Babbette had cornered her the week before, chastising her for the long months away; worried that consulting for that 'hotel guy' had tired her. Miss Patty took certain glee in insinuating that whatever it was that had taken residence in her eyes was due to a lack of 'Luke'. And it was obvious to all that she meant more than just the man. For her part, Lorelai smiled sweetly and ignored them, her only concession an emergency trip to Sephora after Kirk's ill thought out comment.

She trusts herself more now than she used to, now that she knows the nature of fear and loss. Her words are chosen with more care and she tends to take a few more moments before committing to action, usually. There are still moments, like the current one, where it's obvious that old habits die hard.

She stands hidden across the square and studies the diner, brow furrowed in concentration. Things must go perfectly if what she wants to happen, is to happen. It helps that his routine is so deeply ingrained that little alters the course of his days. Oh, he can be unpredictable. He can throw her for the biggest of loops with ease, but she hopes that today he will stick to the same that is old.

Faintly a bell tinkles and the diner door swings wide.

A sparkle surfaces in the corners of her eyes. Her lips curve to form the slightest of smiles. She raises her arm and elbows the figure hunched in the shadows next to her. "Rory. Hun. Wake up. It's time."

A mumbly voice replies, "Time? What are we?"

"We've been over this already. You and I? Our grand caper? Operation Relocation?"

"Huh?"

"Oh sweets." With an indulging smile she stands and pulls her daughter up and across the Town Square. "Come on. This is going to be fun!"

Rory's enthusiasm is substantially less as she stumbles along. "Uh huh. This is so much fun." After a few more steps she refuses to continue. "Tell me again why we're doing this?"

Lorelai turns, jutting out her hip and letting her hand rest there as she explains in exasperation. "Because he won't."

"And you think forcing him is a good idea after… It's 4:30 in the morning mom! Listen. Do you hear anything? The birds aren't even up yet!"

"But Luke is. He's already met with the bread guy and the meat guy this morning. And in approximately…" she glances at her watch, glowing indigo in the darkness "eight minutes, he will arrive at Sniffy's where Buddy will have a hot bowl of, I don't know, oatmeal? waiting for him."

"Mom." She holds out hope that the task can be deferred, or at least delayed to a more reasonable hour.

"Rory. Please? I want to do this. I need to do this. And he doesn't know it yet but he wants this too. No more avoiding, remember?"

"Right. So we?"

"Put one foot in front of the other and get going!"

Doubts still linger for the younger woman. "What about the rest of it? How are we going to do this and everything else before Luke gets back?"

"Rory, hun, I have a plan."

"Rrright…"

"Oh yee of little faith. Listen. I've got the whole town involved. Luke will read the first note, which will lead him to the inn. Once there Michel has, under the promise of certain death or possibly no more night shifts for the rest of the month, agreed to direct him to the exact spot where Kirk will make his grand entrance. Now I've already warned the guests about the 'performance art' scheduled today so they won't be freaked, which I think was brilliant strategy on my part. And from there...well, you know, some other things happen and while they're happening we will have Jackson's truck and Andrew and Bootsy so we can do what we need to do. So really it's all good. All that you have to do is help me right now is this and one quick stop to strategically place the keys and then we're done. Okay?"

The reply is slightly less begrudging than before. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay!"

And so the plan is set in motion.

-o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o-

She waits in anticipation at the end of day; a pillow clutched to her chest as the front door rattles and the knob begins to turn. And then it stops. There is a low curse and then a knock on the door. "Lorelai!" he calls out and her smile grows wider.

"Come in!"

The door rattles again. "It's locked."

She rolls her eyes. "Then open it and come in."

"But I don't have… oh."

She's on her knees now, peering over the back of the couch. "Luke?" The tension in her body is eased by the faint jingle of keys, the click of the lock as the key slides in and releases it. "Yay!" she cheers as he emerges through the entrance.

"And the point of that was?" He's grumbling, but in a happy kind of way.

"To make you use the keys, your keys, to our," she enjoys the feel of the word on her tongue, "our house."

He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair. "So the notes and the complete and utter removal of anything personal in the apartment…"

"Were an attempt to force you to finally, officially move in? Yes."

"And the clues?"

"A shameless bit of torture?" She flutters her lashes playfully. "Angry?"

He slumps onto the couch beside her. "I should be. I've been all over today. The inn, the bookstore, Doose's, Al's… even the gazebo. And you wrote on my wall!"

"Yes, but did you read it?"

He looks to the ceiling and recites, "Two cups of coffee, one pie, one cheeseburger with the work and chili fries. To go."

"And?"

"What and? You defaced my wall with what I'm guessing was your supper order." He nods towards the foyer. "I left it by the door."

"Thanks. And I was trying to recapture a moment just so you know. I was trying to remind you of that day. You know when we were going to paint the diner and you showed me your dad's spot? The one with the order for hammer's or anvil's or something?"

"It was nail's and it's not the same. It's not even the point. I was going to do this soon." His wave seems to indicate the presence of his stuff in the house.

She turns to him and replies, a little forcefully, "You kept saying you were going to move in but nothing was happening. We're getting married in a couple of weeks."

"We are. I am. I was. But I wanted to take some time to go through things."

"Oy, and vay too! Look, I decided to speed things along. I packed, I moved. You can do the sorting here if you want but you're staying. right. here. Mister!" She moves her legs across his, effectively preventing any escape.

They sit there in silence for a few beats before he ventures "So, all those places. The porch, the town square, the church, the bench... We shared moments there?"

She nods, "Yep. The important ones." Pauses. "The unimportant ones. The in between times ones. Just so long as they involved you...and me."

A smile fights its way through his solemn expression. "You really enjoyed the whole cloak and dagger thing, didn't you?"

"It had a certain appeal. I've been rewatching "Charade" just to get it right."

"I can't believe you sent me on a wild goose chase."

"A mystery tour!"

"You're the mystery." He catches her gaze and shifts closer. He can feel a faint puff of her breath graze his nose.

She tilts her head forward. "Are you sorry we got back together?" She inhales slowly, letting his cologne sift through her senses.

He smiles - the curve of his lip tickling hers. "Never."

She stops him just short of his goal, confessing, "I wrote the order in erasable marker. Rory took away the permanent one."

He shrugs and speaks with a hint of teasing. "Maybe we'll cover it with shellac or something. I'd hate to see such a meaningful message wash away." He looks up into her eyes only briefly before erasing the distance between them.

-o--o--o--o--o--o--o--o-

She comes back from the kitchen clad only in his shirt and balancing two small glasses, a knife, a lemon and a bottle of amber fluid. "Oh Luuke!" she calls in a singsong voice.

He rolls over lazily on the couch, a strategically placed afghan covering his middle. He smirks as he watches her walk towards him, straightening suddenly when it occurs to him where they are and his current state of undress. "Oh geeze."

She laughs at his efforts to get decent, pushing him back with one hand while setting her load on the coffee table with the other. "Simmer down there fella. It's only me." She winks and then turns her attention to pouring the tequila.

"But what if?"

She scrunches her nose at him. "She's not here Luke. I sent her back to Yale four hours ago and right now she's probably studying her pretty little head off for midterms. She's not due to come up for air for ten days, six hours and oh, twelve minutes. I think we're fine."

"Someone else could come in," he offers lamely.

"Oh damn, salt!" She straightens and heads for the kitchen while continuing the conversation. "Who? It's 11:30 on a Tuesday night. Did you invite Kirk over for a sleepover? Miss Patty perhaps?" His dismay is evident when she reappears with the salt shaker, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh man. Don't even go there. I just meant…"

"I know Hun, but you worry too much. We're fine just the way we are."

"I just don't like the idea of lying around the living room… like this."

Delight flashes through her eyes. "You didn't seem to be complaining twenty minutes ago."

"Lorelai."

She shrugs in surrender and then passes him a shot glass. "Here."

He eyes the glass suspiciously. "What's this?"

"My old friend Jose Cuervo." When he makes no move to take a drink, she sighs and pats his thigh. "Look. Do you remember Lane's wedding?"

He looks at her blankly. "No. I was in Philadelphia, remember?"

"Right. April's trip. But that's not what I meant. What I meant was. When you were away and I was at Lane's wedding and I made a speech. A very bad, selfish speech."

He squints his eyes, trying to remember. "Didn't you get up and sing a song?"

She shakes her head. "No. That's the story Miss Patty and the rest of the town came up with. No. I was a cumulonimbus and Lane's wedding was my parade. I got up on stage in all my drunken glory and I gave a speech about how this lovely 21 year old girl was getting married and it was great but that I, I would never get married. And I went on and on until I stumbled off the stage. And the reason for all that?" She picks up the bottle. "Jose."

He reaches for her hand and gently slides the bottle and the shot glass out of it. "I'm sorry I ever made you feel…"

She waves him off. "Nah Luke. So not the point. Water under the bridge. I just. There's stuff I didn't tell you and I wanted to make sure that this time there wasn't anything held back."

"Such as?" She glances down as his thumb strokes the back of her knuckles and sighs.

"Such as that I got really drunk and made a fool out of myself because I wasn't being myself. I wasn't me and Christopher... he just wasn't you. God, there I was surrounded by everything and all I could think about was he wasn't you. So I got up on that stage and I looked across at everyone and the one person I wanted there, the one person I wanted to tell everything to wasn't there. But since Rory and Chris were, they got me home and put me to bed in spite of the fact that I didn't want it to be them putting me to bed. And I didn't want to go home because I didn't want to be alone. And the last thing I really didn't want was to wake up in the middle of the night and find Chris sitting on a chair in my bedroom, which was creepy and just wrong.

No, it should have been you. It should have been you I cried to when my parents bought us a house and it should've been you I ran to when I felt lost and most importantly, it should have been you I was waking up with the morning after the night I wanted to elope. I knew it then and I know it now. And the thing is, I like tequila. But I don't want it anymore, I don't want anything anymore unless it's with you."

He doesn't know how to respond to this. The new and the old information are competing for his attention. "Wait. Your parent's bought us a house?"

"Geeze," she teases, "A little slow on the haps aren't we?" She leans forward and places a demure kiss on his cheek. "It didn't go through. I think…"

He smiles and raises his hand to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "I wish it would have been me too."

They stare at each other, searching for some truth, some secret left hidden. But the moments tick by and they can find none.

Finally Luke picks up his glass and clinks it with hers.

"Cheers," she whispers. And this time she means it.


End file.
